


bus rides before sunrise

by roseticos



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Thats it thats the post, doesnt have to be romantic, i wrote this in a sleep deprived haze, its all soft, its literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:09:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseticos/pseuds/roseticos
Summary: in which yang jeongin is the softest person bang chan has ever seen.





	bus rides before sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> i randomly started this late at night and finished it two days later. it’s not much, but i like it

Chan doesn’t know if he’s ever seen someone so enchanting and soft in his life.  
  
His morning had started like any other mundane Monday should— with an extra cup of coffee and a long wait for the metro bus before sunrise. Once he had finally settled himself into the back seat, he thought that would be it for the day, nothing new to intrigue him or even gift him with a remote sense of interest. That's how it always is for Chan. Wake up, work, go home, get sleep when he can. Why should this Monday be any different from the others?  
  
He thought it would all be the same, until now, when his eyes land a boy just sitting down into the faded yellow plastic of the seat across from him. He’s clearly younger, by a couple of years, and he’s clearly a student, a backpack taking up the seat next to him. With his headphones in, he doesn't pay attention to the other passengers and looks out the window, smiling cheerfully at the anything but cheerful street.  
  
And his smile— oh, _God_.  
  
Chan thinks he’s going to have a heart attack seeing that innocent grin, and he’s not sure if he can tear his eyes away from the mesmerizingly pure student in front of him. His smile is everything he needs to live now, and he would do anything to be the cause of such a phenomenon. It’s as beautiful as sunrise, except it’s brighter and more colorful and _better_ than a sunrise. It paints the world around Chan in a more vibrant light, a power no one boy should be able to have.  
  
The bus lurches forward again and Chan blinks, still processing the fact that someone, a student no less, can look so happy at an early time like this. The sun has barely begun to peek out from the skyline (or has it already? Chan begins to contemplate the colors of this boy and if they match the bleeding of morning light on the sky.)  
  
On his backpack is a small leather suitcase tag, and Chan discreetly reads the name printed onto it. _Yang Jeongin_.  
  
Jeongin continues to watch the street go by as the bus moves, fiddling with the extra long sleeves of his pink sweater. Everything about him seems sweet; from the pastel color of his nature and gentle, braced smile that never seems to want to leave his lips, to the oversized clothing and slight bedhead of his fluffy black hair.  
  
If it’s possible to be overcome with a feeling to protect someone within the first two minutes within seeing them, Chan feels it. This is someone who has probably done nothing wrong in his life ever, and Chan wants to preserve that.

What if he never sees him again? What if Chan gets back on the bus tomorrow and Jeongin doesn’t? This could be the one chance that he gets to make friends with the student, he _can’t_ waste it. He has to talk to him, ask him what brings him to the city because _clearly_ he isn’t native to this dull environment. The semester just started, didn’t it? A new student, perhaps?

Chan doesn’t know if he can do it. He’s not in school himself, and he’d probably come off as creepy or stumble over his words. What does he even say to a stranger like Yang Jeongin? Chan feels like cursing (but he can’t— cursing in public? In front of Jeongin, no less?)

Jeongin sighs quietly, taking his earbuds out and unzipping his school bag to put them, away. Taking out a book, he flips to a page, pulling out the bookmark that’s nothing more than a movie ticket. Throughout the whole thing, he continues to look happy, and it’s the strangest yet most uplifting thing Chan has seen in a month.

How can he ever get the nerve to talk to him?

The older thinks the gods have perhaps blessed him when the bus comes to an abrupt stop, startling the younger in front of him. Though surprised, Jeongin braces himself in his seat. The same can’t be said for his backpack, though, and it topples over onto the bus floor, spilling some of it’s contents from the still open pocket.

Chan leaps into action, scooping up empty journals and the papers that had fallen from a folder. He’s given half a glance at them and recognizes the symbol in the corner of many of them as one of the college across town.

Jeongin is spilling a hundred apologies along with his pencils, hands shaking as he frantically tried to repack his school supplies. Helping each other, they manage, Chan zipping the pocket back up and lifting the backpack.

”Thank you...” the younger whispers kindly, and Chan breaks into a grin because hes so _cute_. 

“It’s no problem,” he takes a glance at the tag again, “Jeongin.”

When they take their seats again, Chan picks one that’s closer to the student. He makes sure he’s breathing, even checking his own pulse before glancing over at Jeongin who— likely in an effort to avoid him— is fiddling with his fingers again. The student looked as nervous as Chan felt.

”I’m Chan, b-by the way.”

He looks up, but manages to refrian from making eye contact, “Nice to meet you, thanks for the help, I can’t believe all my stuff just _fell out_.”

“S’okay.” _Breathe, Chan_. “Are you an art student?”

He had noticed the loose colored pencils and sketch books that came out along with his journals, and he was well aware of how famous the art program at that college was. The pencils were freshly sharpened and the books fresh and empty. Everything about Jeongin screamed _New Student_.

Jeongin giggles (a direct attack on Chan), “Yeah, I am, but it’s kind of my first day in class.”

Chan laughs along, leaning over and murmuring, “I can tell,” to the poor student.

As the bus ride commences, the two continue to make conversation, glancing at each other shyly. Jeongin is just as soft as he looks, and Chan adores him. The older passes along a few tips on the city and where to go (or not go). They find comapny in each other, gentle and vibrant.

Jeongin’s color never leaves him as Chan gets off at his stop to leave for work. He made sure to leave the younger with his number, promising that he can be his first new friend and guide. He feels lighter than before, and he’s sure it has everything to do with that boy. Maybe if Jeongin keeps smiling at him, he’ll project enough colors to cover Chan’s dreadfully blank canvas of an existence. Maybe if Chan can help him, he can take those colors and create something out of them. Something more than a beautiful, bleeding, and chaotic sunrise.

A painting.

_Chan worries that he won’t see Jeongin on the bus again the next day, but he’s pleasantly surprised with an early sunrise then and every day afterwards._

 


End file.
